


Raven Reyes and the Arithmancer

by culturevampire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, Raven Reyes is not tormented for anyone's twisted pleasure for a change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culturevampire/pseuds/culturevampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 100 Hogwarts AU, DoctorMechanic-central.</p>
<p>What if Raven was a muggle-born witch? Follows Raven's introduction to the wizarding world, and her adventures at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>Based on Tumblr headcannons by some of my favies</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somewhere in the middle

The first time Raven Reyes noticed how beautiful Professor Griffin’s eyes were, she was being shouted at for nearly burning down the Ravenclaw common room while working on one of her experiments. Raven stood in the middle of the charred common room, head down, sneaking peeks at the three professors surveying the damage. Professor Flitwick had fainted dead away at the sight of the smoking curtains, and so it fell to Professor McGonagall to read her the riot act.

“There are _rules_ , Ms. Reyes. They are meant to keep you and your classmates safe! Poor Mr. Smith-Wesson may never recover from having his pajamas singed in his own common room!”

A snort from the side of the room halted McGonagall’s rant.

Professor Griffin had been checking Professor Flitwick’s vitals and gently trying to wake him, but the reminder of poor William Smith-Wesson’s ruined onesie was too much; she lost her composure and laughed.

“Sorry Minerva,” the brunette muttered, coughing to hide another chuckle. “I just never knew second years required bum-flaps.” Her warm brown eyes sparkled with mirth.

Raven ducked her head to hide her own smile, wincing as her bad leg reminded her that she’d been thrown to the floor by an explosion very recently. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to keep from rubbing at the soreness. She’d be in even more trouble if either professor realized she’d aggravated her old wound.

The Scottish woman turned bright red and cleared her throat. “Very well, Professor Griffin, if you find the situation so very amusing, I’ll just leave you to supervise the clean-up, hmmm?”

Professor Griffin straightened, struggling to hide a smile still, as McGonagall fluttered past her, flicking her wand to levitate a still passed-out Flitwick behind her.

Raven and the professor watched them go. Turning, Raven met Professor Griffin’s eyes sheepishly.

“I’ll buy him some new pajamas?” She said, shrugging.

Her professor laughed again, clapping her hand on Raven’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “To be honest, Raven, I don’t think he’s half so unhappy about his pajamas as Flitwick is about his curtains.”

She winked, before drawing her wand and turning to the charred remains of a sofa. “All right, Reyes, get going.”

Raven rushed to get her own wand, pushing down the warm feeling she’d gotten in her chest when Abby had winked at her.

Er, _Professor_ Griffin, that is.


	2. Bicycle-On-Thames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Raven's backstory, and a little magic.

The year is 2000; Raven Reyes is 12 years old, nearly 13, and she hates school. School, where she gets made fun of for everything from her American accent to the brace on her leg and the hand-me-down clothes donated to the group home where she has lived ever since her parents died. No one messed with her, but no one would be her friend, either, probably because of what her teachers referred to as the “incidents.” Raven couldn’t explain the strange things that happened around her, but she didn’t mind.

She did mind being cooped up in that prison of a school day after day, and more often than not, she just didn’t go. One of the boys from the group home that had aged out worked at a garage, and she spent stolen hours helping him work on illegal race cars and busted up sedans in back alleys. He’d throw her a wrench, give her explicit instructions, and leave her to it. Any car Raven worked on never broke down, and their owners swore they were faster than they had ever been, even when they were new.

Soon, the mechanics in their greasy coveralls were Raven’s closest friends, and they taught her everything they knew.

Raven might have continued that way forever, fixing cars that were impossibly broken down, but a fit of accidental magic did her in.

She’d found the bicycle behind a dumpster, looking like it had gone three rounds with a garbage compactor and lost. It became her new project, and as she spent hours scraping the rust off the frame and aligning the gears, she’d felt that same inexplicable warmth that she felt when she worked on cars. The bike took shape before her, a glowing machine that was _hers_ more than the cars had ever been, and she somehow knew that she’d be able to ride it. Even with a bum knee that kept her awake at night with pain, she’d be faster than the wind on this bike.

The one and only time she rode that bike, she’d been charged with 87 counts of performing magic in front of muggles, and the Obliviator squad had worked around the clock for sixteen hours  to keep the story out of the nightly news. Apparently, a lot of people had noticed the thirteen year old girl on a flying bike in the middle of London.

Raven had managed to fly her bicycle halfway down the Thames before crash-landing into the side of a yacht. Some very nice men with strange looking sticks took her away from the police man who was shouting at her as she stood, dripping on the pavement, and her life had changed from that moment.

Raven Reyes was a witch.

She found herself in another world; a magical world of subterranean ministries and self-flying paper airplanes, and a thousand other impossible things. There was a whirlwind of paperwork, whispers of records burned during the war, and muggle-born children lost to the lack of birth records. The next day saw Raven slinging a pillowcase of her belongings over her shoulder as she left the group home forever. Post-war legislation dictated that muggle-born children who could not safely stay with their own families or ended up in the muggle system could be fostered with a magical family. Raven was taken from her group home and placed with a wizarding family in the countryside. Molly and Arthur Weasley were empty-nesters and volunteered to foster magical children without families of their own.

Walking up to the Burrow for the first time beside the ministry official assigned to her case, Raven had been worried; what was she going to have in common with her new foster parents? But as soon as she’d been in sight of the front door, Molly Weasley had run out of the house.

“Good morning! You must be Raven, oh dear, you look like you haven’t had breakfast yet. Didn’t you feed her?” was directed sternly at the ministry official, Frank, who blushed and admitted there hadn’t been time. The short, plump woman cheerfully hugged Raven, ushering her into the house along with the ministry official and seating both of them at a well-scrubbed wooden table groaning under the weight of a massive breakfast.

As the three of them ate, there was a loud BOOM from the back garden.

“I _told_ him not to do this today!” Molly cried, pushing away from the table. Out the kitchen window, Raven could see a man tottering out of a small building, covered from head to toe in soot.

The back door opened, and the man came inside, collapsing at an empty seat at the kitchen table.

“Arthur Weasley!” Molly shouted. “Is this any way to welcome Raven!?”

Mr. Weasley coughed, and spluttered, “Just a small issue with the carberry-rator, Molly. Nothing a bit of grease won’t fix.”

Frank stood, stiffly. “I didn’t hear that Arthur. I hope you aren’t charming cars again.”

“Oh not at all, Frank! Didn’t see you there!” Arthur smiled broadly and unconvincingly.

Frank harrumphed, “Very well. Goodbye Raven, be sure to let me know if you need anything.” He gave a small bow before letting himself out the front door and apparating halfway down the drive.

Molly stood, muttering, and stalked over to the sink to begin washing the dishes. Over the clanging of pots and pans and the chinking of china being roughly handled, Raven ventured, “Did you say carburetor, sir? Are you working on a car?”

“Please, Raven, call me Arthur. And, yes, I am working on a car. Er, don’t tell Frank, though.” Arthur took his glasses off to wipe them on his shirt, frowning as he realized his shirt was dirtier than his glasses.

“I could help you, si- Arthur. If you wanted.” Raven grinned. “I’m great at cars.”

“Really?” Mr. Weasley exclaimed. “What luck, yes- let’s go, quickly if you please- Molly doesn’t approve, see.” Arthur led Raven to the back shed, beginning to explain, “See the carberry-rator  and the fire sparks aren’t working right…”

Raven listened intently, tying back her hair and rolling up her sleeves. Maybe she’d fit in here alright, after all.


	3. Snapshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Raven's first summer at the Burrow.

That summer was the best Raven had ever had since her parents died. Molly and Arthur’s grown up children visited frequently, and welcomed Raven into the fold with a bit of hazing and a lot of Quidditch. Raven was used to people treating her differently because of her bad knee, but no one ever mentioned it except for George.

“You fit right in here, we all have our scars and injuries,” he said, pulling back his hair to show her what was left of one of his ears.  “Some of them are just easy to see,” he said grimly, “And mine makes it hard to hear!”

“George!” Raven said, laughing helplessly, “that’s awful!”

“Don’t tell mum,” George whispered conspiratorially, “I’ll get an earful!”

And indeed, Raven could see that all of the Weasleys, and their friends, had scars. She saw it when Molly glanced at her clock and a shadow crossed her face as she counted the hands. She saw it when Ginny brought her fiancé Harry for dinner and he compulsively flattened the fringe across his forehead as he first met her. She saw it when one of the boys started telling a story and choked on the name of a classmate they had lost in the war. But she didn’t mention it, and she didn’t draw attention to it. She had her own wounds, after all. But it was nice to be with people who understood.

So the summer passed, and Raven learned about this new world that had reached out to claim her. She got her wand with Harry and Ginny in Diagon Alley, got beat at Wizard’s Chess by Ron (only barely, but still), and accepted the gift of a black raven from a gently smiling George, who only messed up her hair when she tried to say thank you.

 “You’ve got to have some way to tell me about all the trouble you get in,” he said, grinning. “Just keep an eye on her, she likes to steal shiny things.”

Raven grinned broadly as the raven cawed from her shoulder and buried its soft head in her hair.


	4. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy, warty, Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts!

On September 1st, Molly packed Raven a lunch and stood waving goodbye from the platform until the train was out of sight. Raven began moving down the corridor, weaving slightly from the motion of the train, looking for an open compartment. Many were full already; jam packed with kids playing games or brandishing their wands as if they knew what to do with them. Raven snorted a bit and continued until she found a compartment with two kids in it; one taller, dark haired boy, and a tiny girl who sat across from him, teeth bared and looking ready for a fight.

As Raven slid the door open, she heard the boy saying, “I told you, O, first years aren’t _allowed_ to play Quidditch. That’s why mum took your broom.”

“No,” the girl bit back, “Mum took my broom because you went and _told her I packed it_. AND, Harry Potter played his first year at school. Why not me? Thanks for nothing, Bellamy.”

Raven paused at the door, hesitantly asking, “Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

The boy- Bellamy, shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don’t sit too close to Octavia, she might bite you. And she’s got rabies.”

Octavia huffed, turning to look at Raven. “Please come in and save me from my insufferable big brother.”

Raven moved inside, letting the door latch behind her and taking a seat next to Bellamy. Octavia’s eyes lit up at the sight of the raven on Raven’s shoulder.

“Ohh! He’s lovely!” she exclaimed, reaching out one finger to gently pet the bird’s feathers. The raven let out a soft croaking noise and playfully nibbled at Octavia’s finger.

“What’s his name?” Octavia inquired, stroking the bird’s head.

“She, actually, and I haven’t decided yet,” Raven admitted sheepishly. “It’s going to be difficult, honestly, because my name is Raven- I suspect the person who gave it to me intended it that way.”

Octavia chuckled, and said, “Well, you know Ravenclaw’s symbol is the raven, you could name her Rowena.”

Raven looked into the distance thoughtfully. “You know, that’s a great idea. She is the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw, after all.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes as Octavia’s widened. “Really? How do you know?”

Raven leaned in and whispered, “She told me in a dream.”

Bellamy groaned out loud. “Get me off this crazy train.”

A brilliant smile lit up Octavia’s face. “Then Rowena it is!” She bowed deeply to the bird on Raven’s shoulder, and the bird seemed to bow back before fluttering her wings and cawing in Raven’s ears to tell her she was hungry.

“All right then,” Raven exhaled. “Who likes corned beef?”

\--

The ride to Hogwarts went quickly, and soon they were pulling on their robes, Bellamy taking care to make sure his stiff collar lay neatly over his green and silver Slytherin tie, and Raven helping Octavia to fix her hair, eventually offering to braid it so it was out of her face.

Bellamy read as the two girls chatted about what houses they’d like to be in.

“No one ever says Hufflepuff,” Octavia pouted, “But I hear they volunteer at soup kitchens and do fun community service projects.”

Raven nodded thoughtfully, adding, “I think I’m a bit destined to be a Ravenclaw, having been chosen by Rowena Ravenclaw her reincarnated self. Besides, I look so good in blue!”

The train slowed to a stop, and Bellamy jumped up, rushing to give Octavia a hug. “As long as it’s not Gryffindor, we can still be related, O.” He headed out into the corridor, shouting over his shoulder, “And don’t get eaten by the giant squid!”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “C’mon Raven, time to meet our destiny.”

On the platform, an enormous man had collected all the first years into a huddle, shouting, “All firs’ years, this way!” The lantern he held above the crowd’s head illuminated a beaming face covered by a bushy beard.

“All righ’ you bunch, to the boats!”

Raven and Octavia followed to group into a boat, which took off across the lake. She and Octavia gasped at their first sight of the castle perched on top of a cliff, windows glowing warmly into the night.

Raven grinned. “Finally!”

 

\--

Raven wasn’t nervous to be sorted; Octavia had already gone to Hufflepuff, leaving Raven surrounded by a gaggle of children. She waited for her turn under the hat. Harry told her what to expect- “Ron let me think we would be wrestling trolls. It’s really just a conversation- a deep one, but just talk to the hat.”

Raven strode forward confidently when her name was called and she lost sight of the hall as the hat dropped over her eyes.

“Oooh, all cogs and gears, hmm? And a strong command over your magic already, I see,” the hat murmured as Raven squirmed a bit. “Excellent, yes. Let’s send you to ask questions with the rest of them, then- RAVENCLAW!”

Raven handed the hat off to a smiling McGonagall and tripped her way over to the table dominated by blues and silvers, sitting next to a dark haired first year girl who was buried in the pages of “The Art of War.”

Raven took one look at the title and snorted. “Heavy reading for a feast, don’t you think?”

The other girl didn’t bother lowering the book, but replied, “Should I put it down and succumb to the weak revelry of baseless traditions and endless, meaningless noise?”

Raven considered before replying, “You should if you want any of the rolls. I think Monty is trying to eat them all.”

The girl sighed, stowing the book away in her bag and beginning to fill her dinner plate from the food that had appeared on the table.

“I’m Raven, by the way.”

“Lexa.”

“Nice to meet you, Lexa.”

“…We’ll see.”


End file.
